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—
The Iron Islands
Harlaw
The more time they spent on the Iron Islands, the more pleasant time passed, thanks to the mother tree. The weather warmed up, the winds slowed down, and the greenery spread.
Not only on Harlaw, but on the other islands too. The people were restless but too scared to do anything drastic.
That was before Robert ordered the recently arrived farmers to start working immediately. The smallfolk were clueless and hesitant to start farming before Robert slapped the belligerence out of a young man, and then they were all too willing.
All those people, however, could not just survive on farming alone, but fortunately, the mother tree would increase the yield of the sea as well.
More taxes for Asgard.
The smallfolk were also capable shipbuilders, which Robert would take advantage of by bringing shipwrights from Asgard to have more Pioneers built for his fleets.
Now, he just needed a capable governor for the Iron Islands. Preferably, someone with knowledge in farming and capable of holding the smallfolk in line.
—
It turned out to be two people. One, an old captain who knew his letters; the other, another old man, a farmer who had toiled in the fields of Reach. The captain was known for keeping even the unruliest of crewmembers in line, and the farmer was something of a go-to man for younger farmers whenever they faced a difficulty in the field.
The newly appointed Governor Stenmar and the Chief Farmer Alderys would work together, covering each other's weaknesses, while Robert would send more learned men to manage the islands.
Overall, it was an excellent campaign.
—
Finally done with the preparations, he was ready to return home, leaving most of the children to tend to the tree as they desired.
The horns of the kraken were loaded onto two ships bound together with chains and rope, dragged by several more ships as a trophy of his victory.
Which made two, and at this rate, he considered opening a gallery, displaying his trophies.
Robert's Gallery of Awesomeness sounded nice to the ear.
—
Having left Obelisk to protect the fleet, Robert made a beeline for Asgard, because he couldn't handle another three weeks of trailing the fleet.
Through the Riverlands, he flew over Hayford and King's Landing before heading to Asgard.
The reason he was over King's Landing was to leave an impression, more so than he already had.
Flipping the Targaryens while they watched from the ground, he went home.
—
Asgard
Ra was landing on the square when the excited citizens rushed to greet him.
Chants of "Robert! Robert!" were quickly getting louder, and he stood atop the dragon, raising both hands to the air, basking in the glory of the moment.
"People of Asgard. I have, once again, returned victorious in my greatness. The Ironborn shall no longer trouble anyone, for I have either killed or sent them all to the Wall, which is just as bad if you ask me."
The crowd laughed at his small joke before they continued cheering.
—
"My lord, welcome back. We wanted to greet you, but the people were too eager." Tyrion bowed his head, while Rhaelle fussed over Robert, checking him for any injuries.
"Can you blame them for having a lord like me?" Robert winked with a cocky smile.
His grandmother looked ready to twist his ear off but did not do it out of propriety. "You jumped into a kraken's maw, Robert?"
"And fought through an army of lobster monsters; let's not forget that part." Robert corrected Rhaelle, knowing he was on dangerous territory as it is.
"Of course, how could we?" She muttered, leaving him be. Her eldest grandson was incorrigible as always.
Pinching his grandmother's cheeks, Robert went to hug his brother after the old woman slapped his hands away. "Stannis and Delena, how are you two doing?"
"Good. Certainly nothing as interesting as your campaign has been." Stannis grunted as his brother finally released him.
Robert put Stannis in a headlock, giving him a gentle noogie. "Don't pout, Stannis, I'll take you with me next time."
Trying to wrench out of Robert's hold was impossible, even though Stannis was stronger than most men, but mercifully, he let go. "I would rather not."
"Brother, I hope you like the garden. I thought the keep could use it." Delena smiled.
"Oh, thank you for that. I wanted to actually make this place look better, but you saved me the work."
—
A feast would be customary, but Robert wanted to wait until the fleet returned. His first business back home was to visit the families of the dead men, those that had families at least, and relay his condolences.
Empty words weren't all he was going to offer, but also stipends for the wives and children if they had any, or for the parents. It would be until the children grew up and wed, and they would also be granted priority should they wish to work directly for Asgard, such as enlisting as soldiers or as clerks.
Provided they had the necessary qualifications, of course.
Victory was sweet, but meeting all those people and being unable to even give them bodies for burial? That was more bitter than anything else.
—
There was so much work to do, Robert dreaded to begin. Without him and Davos there, the work eventually piled up, and now, he had to make up for it.
Construction plans for neighborhoods for the waiting citizens, the fleet management, from the shipbuilding efforts to deciding the routes of the trade fleets, and the revenues from all his ventures.
The last part made him smile.
It wasn't a fortune by any means, since Asgard wasn't producing much yet, but it was the rate of growth that was impressive. The first trade voyage, which had barely made a five thousand gold profit, was doubled in the second and tripled in the third.
This exponential growth wouldn't continue, but the profits flowed straight into propping up the production centers and the guilds, and eventually, Robert would have Asgard where he wanted it.
And he didn't have to pay taxes, which was a bonus.
Calculating routes on the map, Robert slapped his forehead, remembering something. "Tyrion, send a letter to Harroway; I promised Rhydan Roote a bridge."
"A bridge?" Tyrion had heard rumors along those lines going around but was too busy with work, and none had brought it to his attention.
Robert tapped twice on where the Twins, the keep of House Frey, was. "To break the power of the Freys."
No one liked the Freys, and it wouldn't be outlandish to say Walder Frey was despised by a lot of nobles. "What shall I say?"
"Ask him how the preparations go; he was the one who had to gather the workers and the stone necessary. Have him send me the complete costs for now." Robert would calculate the costs to ensure there was no foul play, not that Rhydan struck him as the type.
Tyrion pulled out an empty parchment to pen the letter. "As you wish. But may I ask, why take such a stand against the Freys? Have they done something to displease you?"
"They are vultures; that is good enough for me. And we get to irritate your father since Genna Lannister is wed to a Frey." Tyrion smiled at the last part. While Tywin Lannister never liked his sister being wed to a Frey, the merchants of the Westerlands enjoyed free passage through the Twins.
This would definitely irritate his father.
—
The work was alleviated a bit, enough for him to dispense rewards and hear petitions. First in line was the resident mage, who earned his title now since he did something that had not been seen in centuries.
"Marwyn the Mage, I commend you on managing to use a Valyrian glass candle. This alone is an unmatched boon to Asgard. Now, I want you to find and teach acolytes how to do the same. In the meantime, I'll grant you a wish, as long as it isn't unreasonable." He offered, while two servants brought forward a staff with a body of Valyrian steel entwined around a white crystal at the top.
Marwyn rose, taking the staff with reverence. "You have already given me more than I hoped to ever find in life, my lord. My only wish is to continue my studies."
Oh well. "Very well, if you think of anything, you may ask again."
—
Once the theatrics were out of the way, Robert held in his hand the report of Marwyn's experiments on the White Walker.
She was weak to sounds too low for human ears to hear, and they could shatter the skin, leaving deep, painful wounds.
Dragonglass and Valyrian steel were already known weaknesses, but it turns out anything related to the fire affected them as well. If charcoal and ash touched the skin, they burned the White Walker, not enough to kill, but enough to weaken them.
To that end, Marwyn suggested gathering charcoal dust and ash to spread over the monsters should they attack the Wall.
Hundreds of substances, claimed to be magical one way or the other, were tried as well, but none had done any harm.
Except for the dragonbinder. Whatever magic the dragonlords of old imbued on it, just bringing it close to the White Walker caused her to contract in pain. Encouraged by this, Marwyn had exposed her to the dragonscales left behind by the siblings, and while her ice and cold could not harm them, the scales did nothing to her either.
Resorting to more holy means, the seven-pointed star had not produced any results, nor had the holy scriptures when held or read by common men.
When it was a septon, however, the White Walker was uncomfortable, even if she was unharmed.
Marwyn wished to test how she would do before the priest of R'hllor, but they were forbidden from entering Asgard.
Overall, the questions answered shed more light on the Faith of the Seven and the dragonlords than they did on the White Walkers.
Still, Robert was pleased.
—
Three days had passed since his arrival, and the bards of Valhalla, whom he usually kept around to play relaxing music, had brought him a song written for his latest victory.
"O slayer, o slayer,
Of monsters, of demons,
On the wings of dragons, he glided to the Doom.
Found a demon so foul, so cursed,
Its spawn puppeteered the dead.
Yet they fell once the strings were cut.
From the sky, he dove like an arrow.
Plunging his spear deep in the demon's chest,
Sailed against the reavers,
He found a beast so foul, so cursed,
A kraken of myth and tale,
Dove into its maw to save his faithful subjects
An army of monsters, he put to sword.
Deep in the belly of the beast,
He found its beating heart.
With a swing of his sword,
Vanquished it like shadows in the sun,
O slayer, O slayer
Long live Robert the Slayer."
Robert clapped loudly, very pleased with the results.
—
Tyrion slammed his hand on the table, breaking Robert out of his musings over the papers before him.
"What happened?"
"Cersei has escaped from the Silent Sisters, along with Lysa Tully."
"Huh, what are the chances she goes to the Free Cities and becomes a whore?" Cersei Lannister, the second coming of Saera Targaryen.
Then again, Cersei wasn't as smart as she thought, and Lysa, less so. The runaway ladies might just get themselves killed.
Either way, Tywin Lannister must be furious.
"Don't be so angry now. Cersei is sheltered. She has no way of earning coin, except for selling herself, and if she is stupid enough to not run away from Westeros, Tywin will find her."
"Even the Silent Sisters are too good for her."
"You know what, send out orders; if they are ever seen around here, have both of them hanged like common brigands."
"Gladly, my lord."
—
Robert whistled, enjoying the sight before him.
With hair like fire, a toned body, a lovely but cold face, and deep brown eyes, the woman before him, dressed in a black robe with thick fur around her neck, was definitely one of the most gorgeous ones he had ever seen before.
"Tell me, my lady, what brings a beauty like you to Asgard?" He asked, holding out his hand. Reserved, the red headed beauty gave her hand as well, and Robert pressed a light kiss on her knuckles.
"Trade." Her accent was rough, almost like Russian, and colder than her face.
He had no idea where it was from. "Your accent is unfamiliar."
"I come from Moraq." Robert racked his brain, remembering the maps, and knew Moraq was distant.
Really distant.
Perhaps a visit to the island nation was in order. "Ah, that is certainly unexpected."
"Everyone has heard of your deeds. Even Yi-Ti speaks of you, mostly to laugh." The woman did not seem to be warming up to him at all, and Robert took his seat again.
Robert covered his mockingly shocked mouth with his hand. "They laugh at me? My, I wish they were here to do it to my face."
"They don't believe your deeds are real, but I see they are." The woman admitted begrudgingly, and Robert knew this would go nowhere.
Still, it wouldn't do if he did not take the shot. "Would you like to hear it in private? I am even having the horns of a kraken brought to Asgard."
"My ship departs soon; I must leave." The woman bowed, and Robert shrugged. Ah well, nothing to do about it now.
"Great, Robert Baratheon, spurned by a woman. This is the second time, I believe?" Tyrion coughed to hide his laughter as he entered the room. He knew Robert wasn't the type to make an issue out of jests like these.
"And I actually liked her. This sucks." This woman blew any he had seen before out of the water, and in the meantime, he threw a jab at Lyanna Stark too.
The first time his handsome face failed him.
"What did they come to trade?" What did Moraq have to offer?
Tyrion searched through the papers in his arms. "Furs, trinkets, weapons, and silk."
So nothing out of the ordinary.
"Speaking of silk, how do our trees fare?" They kept the business itself secret; there was no need for competition in Westeros.
"We are having mulberry trees dug out and moved carefully to Asgard, but it costs great coin. The saplings will take years to grow, and the workers are waiting for the moths to lay eggs." Tyrion reported, keeping a close eye on the groove, under the guise that Robert Baratheon liked mulberries too much.
Otherwise, even with how discreet they were, there would be questions about why Asgard needed so many mulberry trees.
Robert leaned back. "Ah, time, one of the few things I can't buy with coin."
He didn't have time to think much about the woman, busy as he was.
—
Notes: I decided to write a song this time, rather than just mentioning it. Hope you guys like it.
—
In the next chapter:
Tyrion was puzzled.
"What exactly is an advancement fair, my lord?" Robert's explanation for his next task left him confused, because it was common for half of his words to not make sense.
Robert brought his fingers together, tapping them in a rhythm, looking at the ceiling as he thought about how best to explain this. "Tell me a tool that would make your tasks easier."
Curious to see where this was going, Tyrion considered his options. "Perhaps a quill that did not run out of ink so quickly?" When you had to work as much as him, constantly filling your quill began to grate on his patience.
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